


Drizzle (But feels like pouring rain)

by justgotowisharder



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Louis, M/M, Rain, Sub Louis, harry is a pluviophile, theres a lot of rain really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justgotowisharder/pseuds/justgotowisharder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough.<br/>Or, at least, that's what Louis thinks.</p><p>(Harry is a pluviophile and Louis gets really insecure sometimes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drizzle (But feels like pouring rain)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm staying at my grandma's for a while so I have like... free time. A lot.  
> This is some rambling i wrote in a rainy day, as you might ser. it isn't checked, it's probably a mess and has no sense at all but idk i wanted to write something with insecure!louis bc i hate the kj & harry drama so i live in my own little word where louis and harry are happy. lottie xxx
> 
> This fic was translated into russian by Natasha, read it [here (xx)](http://ficbook.net/readfic/1478344) :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Pluviophile:** (n) _a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days_.

 

 

*  


**R A I N**

 

Harry Styles is the kind of boy who appreciates happiness more than any other thing in the world. He loves to be surrounded by happy people; to make people happy. A genuine smile is more worthy than all the gold form the world, better yet if he’s the one causing that smile. 

Harry Styles has always loved to make people happy. It was a great thing of him, a lovely characteristic of his endearing personality. 

It was great until he started choosing to keep his problems to himself only to avoid breaking the happiness on his beloved ones. It was great until he decided to put his trust in the rain and only the rain.

You could say they hit him. Harry prefers to say that _they caress him._

Cold and strong, every single raindrop caress Harry’s body, wetting his skin, feeling as light as a feather brush and tender as a kiss.

How does it feels like to stand out in the rain? Harry might say it feels awesome. _Really_.

He doesn't know how to explain it really, words don't seem enough when he wants to explain such an intense feeling of freedom.

Yes, that is: _the rain makes Harry Style free._

Harry can feel it, he feels every single raindrop, every single pat. His eyes flutter shut while the rain falls over him.

The sound of the drops drumming against the roof, against the muddy road… The rain makes a drape of water that makes it impossible to see in the distance.

It’s just rain _everywhere_.

The smell of rain, of soggy nature...

Harry opens his eyes after a long time of a peaceful state of  daydreaming, breathing slowly. His fringe is plastered to his forehead and his clothes are soaked, but he doesn’t care.

Rain is his support; his way of knowing how alive he is. Because even those who have a pretty life, sometimes they get sad and need a reminder of how it feels like to be alive. Harry is one of those people.

Harry might be a pluviphile.

It’s the rain and the rain is all he needs. Or that’s what he thinks.

 

*

**D R I Z Z L E**

 

 

Louis wakes up with the sound of the rain hitting the roof.

He likes that sound, blame is on his boyfriend, probably. The hipster likeness for rain isn't something he got to learn by his own.

You know the sound, one of those sounds that make you feel peaceful and warm inside, wanting to stay in bed all day doing nothing at all except drinking tea and reading a book.

It’s so nice to know that it's early on the morning because early means that he can spend a lot of time on bed, curling up beside his favorite person in the entire world, sharing kisses, love whispers and eternal promises of love.

“Harooold,” Louis mumbles with a sleepy voice.

No one answers. Louis rolls to Harry’s side of the bed and he finds it cold and empty. He opens his eyes, sighing with annoyance.

What a lovely way of waking up.

Really, how many boyfriends leave their significant other to join the rain? Harry is the only one, probably.

No, not probably, _Harry is the only one._

"Well, I'm dating a pluviophile,” Louis whispers in a slow voice.

He gets off from bed and goes directly to take a shower. He doesn’t even bother to text his boyfriend, he knows where he is: in the garden, sitting on the bench, enjoying the rain.

Harry being a plupiophile isn't what bother Louis, he will never be annoyed about something Harry really loves.

What annoys him (maybe _scares_ it's the right word) is that Harry doesn’t go outside just because, he needs the rain when something is messing up with his mind.

Rain does that thing for Harry, it brings him peace of mind. Louis doesn’t understand it, though, but he doesn't complain.

While he’s under the warmth of the shower, alone and far away from everyone and everything, his mind starts thinking.

Over-thinking can be dangerous; Louis is a specialist on the matter.

He can't help it, though, and that’s when he hears it. The voice, that tiny voice that happens to be oddly  similar to his mom's severe tome, telling him always the same:

_Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough._

 

*

 

Louis loves autumn, he really does. He has a human heat by his side to cuddle him and make it better when it's cold. Louis has Harry and that's all he needs.

With the autumn's arrival, it comes one of the most important events in Harry’s life: the decision of his future.

When they first met, years ago, they didn't think about the possibility of being torn apart by their futures. They fell in love irremediably, pretending life wasn't complicated and pretending they would always be able to find a way.

Then, Louis finished school and started working in the art field. Then, Harry needed to chose a path for his future.

He decided to apply to study music in a conservatory. He’s up to move out to Oxford and, as much as Louis knows he’ll miss him, he can’t move out with him because he has to stay in London where he’s currently working.

Life has changed since they started dating, of course, but now and then the couple has been supporting each other; they always try to be together.

 They know life isn't always easy (sometimes Louis wishes it was).

He's willing to support Harry in everything he decides to do, ignoring the heart ache when he thinks about the possibility of living _without_ his better half for three years.

Yet there is one tiny detail that tells Louis the heart ache might be shared: Harry starts spending too much time outside under the rain.

That Monday morning is one of those where Louis has to dress like an onion: in twenty millions of layers, until he’s ready to go outside while drizzle is falling.

He has no other reason to be outside more than to find his boyfriend sitting on the bench, probably trying to calm his nerves.

Harry doesn’t notice Louis until he’s really close. The curly haired boy looks at him by the corner of his eyes and pretends he doesn’t even notice him.

Louis loves when he does that. It's cute, it opens Louis the possibility to start a random conversation pretending they are strangers.  

“Hi, pluviophile boy,” Louis says to Harry when he reaches his place.

Harry looks up at him, his hair wet and his pretty black coat getting wet.

“Hi sir,” he says simply, “I like you. Do you wanna get wet with me?” He asks and points at the empty side of the bench.

Louis sits down next to his boyfriend, ignoring his sweatpants getting wet. Harry quickly wraps his arms around Louis' waist, pulling him closer.

“Hiiiiiiiii,” he whispers on his ear, nuzzling his face against Louis’s hair and making the older boy giggle. "I like you, mystery boy. Let's get married, shall we?"

Louis pokes his head up and presses a soft kiss to Harry's lips. Their mouths are wet and their lips chapped and cold, but the kiss taste good anyway because Harry’s kisses always taste well.

"I'd love to," Louis accepts, smiling as if Harry hadn't proposed to him millions of times already (which he did). "You're reckless, marrying a stranger."

"You're a cute one." 

They hug and kiss lazily for a couple of minutes, wrapped into each other and surrounded by rain.

“Why this time?” Louis asks finally, breaking the silence. He fixes Harry’s wet fringe and waits for a reply. “Nervous about your application, Harold?”

“Nopes. I don’t know,” Harry confesses, thoughtful. Louis kissed Harry's temple and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. He’s so tiny in comparison with the younger boy, but it feels so good, because he can literally snuggle on his arms like a kitten. “I just feel— weird.”

“You shouldn’t, baby boy," Louis points out, caressing Harry’s back with his fingertips.

Well, Harry has his right to fell weird. It's not as if he shouldn’t, he should have trusted Louis to make it better instead of the rain.

_Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough._

That fucking voice again.

“Rain makes me feel alive, you know? I don't know, Lou... it’s stronger than any other feeling,” Harry explains.

 _It hurts_. It hurts because Louis’ biggest emotion is his love for Harry, not a stupid love for something like… Rain.

It upsets Louis in such a dangerous level, making him miserable and unhappy. Maybe it’s just Louis’s mind making a big fuss about something stupid, really.

Nevertheless, Louis doesn’t feel completely fine.

“I know,” Louis nods, letting himself be held so tightly by the boy he loves the most, “I know, Haz.”

He doesn’t add a word, which is a strange behavior for Louis, who always has something to say about everything.

For the very first time in the five years they have been together, Harry feels like there’s something Louis isn’t telling him.

 

*

 

"Fucking rainy day." It's crystal clear by his voice tone that Louis is annoyed that morning.

Zayn, his business partner and best mate, is doing a big graffiti in one of the walls when Louis walks into their atelier.

He waves free hand at him and takes off the headscarf he has knotted under the chin.

“Hey, mate!” he greets, walking towards Louis. “Such a shitty day, hum? All rainy.”

“Don’t tell me about it,” he mutters, throwing his stuff on the floor. “Harry is the only crazy mind who enjoys this kind of days.”

“Moody because of your pluviophile boyfriend, Tomlinson?” Zayn jokes, kneeling down to look in his aerosols.

“Nah,” Louis lies.

He could have talked, but there is no need yet. It’s not so strong, it’s just a tiny voice that casually interrupts his thoughts. Just a casual voice, he has nothing to talk about. “Lemme help you with this graffiti, Z.”

“Sure, let's do it.”

 

*

 

If there's something Louis can tell for sure, is how hard Harry has worked for the application.

He has a pretty angelic voice from birth, but lately he has been singing and practicing almost every second of his life to improve his talent, and hell he did.

He also tried to play piano even when he isn’t really good with instruments.

He's giving his best and Louis couldn't be anymore proud.

"Morning, Louis!" Anne greets when she walks into the living room, carrying with her a hot cuppa and interrupting Louis's thoughts about Harry. "Have tea, darling."

Louis raises his eyes at Anne, pleased of meeting her.

He loves that woman a lot, truly; not only because she's the   extraordinary human being that raised Harry.

Since he moved out to London to pursue a career in the art field, the Styles family offered Louis a place to stay until he found the perfect flat.

Louis isn’t really sure if he deserves such a loving and a warm treatment, but Harry and Anne insisted and Gemma seemed not to mind at all, so he accepted it.

Harry's home has this kind of thing that makes Louis want to walk bare feet, dance around in his pj's... Be at  _home_ , basically.

“Hi Anne," he says softly, turning at his mother in law. "Thank you.” Louis takes the cuppa and smiles at Anne. She goes to sit by his side on the kitchen island, ready to eat her eggs and bacon. “How are you?”

“Fine, dear. Today is a big day for Harry, hum? He’s finally applying,” Anne says and she sounds pretty excited, it’s adorable. Louis smiles widely and nods with the head.

“I know. He was nervous as hell last night, I fell asleep and he was still rambling about the things he has studied.”

“Oh, poor you!” She exclaims, giggling. "Harry can be a little bit annoying when he's insecure."

"He is never annoying for me, Anne." Louis means it. "He's like a little chid."

Anne chuckles, nodding with the head. She chews his bacon in silence, her eyes lost into her thought, making Louis curious.

She's the one to break the silence. "He’s outside, by the way.”

_Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough._

The voice, again. That little demon inside Louis's brain that doesn't let him live in peace.

“Yeah, as usual,” Louis says, suddenly his stomach feels closed.

“Go outside, love. I know you want to,” Anne says, pointing at the main door.

“But—”

“Oh, don’t dare you to say he wants to be alone! Harry always wants to be with you,” Anne says, grinning. I know my son, sweetie.”

Louis nods with the head, thoughtful. For the very first time, he wonders if his presence in the house is annoying for Anne.

“You don’t mind that I’m staying here, don’t you, Anne?”

“For the love of God, Louis, of course not! Stop asking me this, you’re part of this family,” she exclaims. Louis nods with he head hesitantly, trying to find any sign of falseness in Anne. He finds none, she sounds like she means it. “I’m worried about Jay, anyway… You two are far from each other and she probably wants to know about you.”

“You talk with her every day, practically.” Louis doesn't fool around, he knows how closed Jay and Anne had become.

Anne rolls her eyes, grinning. She looks pleased with herself; she drinks her coffee before adding, “go outside, your rain fairy is waiting for you.”

"I was about to go," Louis admits, finishing his tea.

“But please, sweetheart, wear a coat. I don't want you to catch a cold."

“Sure,” Louis replies, smiling at Anne as a son smiles at his mother.

 

Rain comes in many, many ways, and sometimes it is just _drizzle_. It feels good, because they’re tiny and weak little raindrops that don’t hurt or hit Harry’s body, they just… Kindly pat his skin.

Drizzle is nice because it isn’t a curtain and he can see the horizon, he can smell the humidity and enjoy his wet body and his wet hair.

Of course, when he’s feeling really down, drizzle is kind of useless, but this time Harry only needs a reminder of what living feels like.

Harry doesn’t even close his eyes when it’s drizzling, because drizzle is something nice to see more than to feel. That’s why he spots Louis approaching.

He smiles at him and pats the empty side of the bench, where Louis gladly sits down.

Harry reaches a hand for Louis to hold, yet his boyfriend doesn’t link their hands.

"Lou?" Harry tries to be smooth about it, pretending it doesn't hurt him that Louis isn't holding his hand.

"Haz," Louis replies in a whisper.

“Louuu,” Harry repeats and makes a pouty face, asking Louis for a kiss. Louis rolls his eyes and pecks him on the edge of his mouth, giving up fairly quickly.

“Missed you in bed. Anne told me you were here,” Louis says as if it wasn't a big deal.

“Points for mom,” Harry jokes, smiley.

They stare at each other for a while, the rain on Harry's skin and the love inside his chest, two of the feelings he likes the most.

“Dear Mr. Tomlinson, I like you a lot,” Harry murmurs, smiling, dimples on his cheeks.

“Mr. Styles, you’re a sap.” Louis scoffs, pretending to find all the cheesiness utterly gross.

He loves to pretend he's though and cold when the truth is that Harry makes him a softy. 

“But you love me.”

Louis smiles at Harry, getting closer to him. Harry reaches a hand to caress his boy’s face, sliding the tip of his thumb by his chapped lips.

“What’s wrong, Lou?” Harry finally asks, frowning.

Louis knows that Harry can see everything he’s feeling. His boyfriend can fucking see everything on him, passing trough all the barriers Louis tries to build; here’s no way of hiding things.

Louis is smiling, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes and Harry notices it.

“Nothing,” Louis lies, reaching for his boyfriend's hand and intertwining their fingers, resting his head on the crook of Harry’s neck. “Just— enjoy the rain, babe. Today is your big day and you don’t have to think about anything else more than your application.”

 

*

**S L E E T**

 

When your boyfriend is cuddly by nature, low temperatures are the best thing that can happen to you. Louis knows this more than anyone in the world because Harry is the biggest cuddler he met.

When your boyfriend is cuddly by nature, autumn mean an obsession with hot cocoa, soft blankets and fireplace; bodies cuddled up on the couch talking and kissing and doing what they know to do best: _love each other._

It should have been enough proof for Louis of how much Harry loves him. It should have been, but it isn’t. Louis is an over thinker and nothing seems enough when his mind starts finding black holes in everything he analyses.

He knows he’s feeling like shit because of it. He’s weak, so weak, he always falls over his doubts and fears, choosing to believe what his mind tells him instead of what Harry tells him.

Every time he looks at Harry, the younger boy is looking outside and Louis can’t help thinking that yes, Harry is waiting for the rain because he’s nervous about the results for his application. That means he needs the rain, the peace of mind and that means….

_Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough._

You see, when you’re naturally an over thinker, there is nothing you can do about it. Louis’ mind keeps rambling about the things Harry may or may not have felt towards him, always arriving at the same conclusion: he isn’t enough.

Life just sucks for Louis, honestly.

He tries to avoid the subject, to think about other stuff; to trick him into believing that he’s doing a great job as boyfriend. But, of course, as every time he’s trying not to think about something, Gemma brings up the subject that night.

“Hey, Harry— When are we going to receive the results? I want to know if you’re becoming all clever and nerdy,” she asks, casually playing with her fork.

“Hum— I guess—” Harry acts as if he hasn’t really knew about the days. He pretends he has to think about it, but Louis knows he has the days perfectly marked and counted on his phone. He doesn’t want to seem really excited and nervous about it, because the bigger is his excitement, bigger the is fall if nothing works out. “Next week, Monday.”

“Today is Wednesday and,” Gemma thinks on silence for a moment, counting the days. “That means five days of fucking waiting. Well—”

Anne takes the word, interrupting her daughter, who doesn’t seem to mind. “Have you two figured out what are you going to do if Harry is accepted?”

She knows his son is really attached to Louis.

Basically, everyone around them know how attached they are. They sleep better when they’re together, they smile more, they are happier. They function better as one.

Nobody, not even Harry, is sure if he's going to do well being away from his boyfriend.

“Nah, we haven’t,” Louis replies with total honesty and Harry looks for his hand under the table, intertwining their fingers. Louis feels a stitch right on his chest and he doesn’t really know why. “Probably we’ll do it soon or later. I mean…”

“You’ll have to,” Anne nods, raising her eyebrows. “It’s for your own good.”

“Don’t wanna think about it,” Harry mumbles, leaning into Louis to bury his face on his boy’s shoulder.

“Dear,” Anne says, lolling her head to one side, staring at his son. “I want you to be happy.”

“Hey, guys!” Gemma exclaims, cutting the thread of the conversation. She jumps off her chair and runs towards the bow window from the kitchen. “It’s snowing. Well, not snowing- _snowing_ , but whatever.”

“Snowing?”

Harry pokes up his head, looking at her sister. When she nods, he drops Louis’s hand and stands up, living his side to join his sister.

Louis is frozen on his chair. Harry dropping his hand… It feels so wrong. Maybe it isn’t as important as he’s considering it to be; yet he can’t help it, anyway. Everything seems to be pointing at the same fucking conclusion: _Louis isn’t enough._

“Lou, come here!” Harry asks excitedly, turning to his boyfriend. “It’s almost snowing!”

Louis tries his best to smile at him, but he fails. He fails like the worst and Harry notices his lack of happiness.

“Lou?” Harry asks, walking towards his boyfriend. Louis stands up, wanting nothing except to feel his weak soul wrapped into Harry’s love. His boyfriend receives him in his arms and kisses the top of his head, always so tender with him. “Are you all right, love?”

Louis buries his face on the crook of Harry’s neck, holding back the tears. He inhales Harry’s smell, the smell of home, wanting to have a glimpse of the only thing that makes him feel better: his boy.

“No, I’m just a little sleepy,” he lies, speaking huskily. “Show me the snow, Haz.”

_Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough._

It’s very accurate to say that it’s almost snowing, Louis thinks. Its drizzle blended with a half melted snow. Little snowflakes mixing up with water and falling on the ground to melt there; disappearing forever in a thin layer of water.

It’s nice but rather sad because snowflakes are such a lovely thing, yet they end like regular water on the ground.

Louis knows that Harry likes it anyway. He knows how he sees it: it's just another way of considering that beauty doesn’t last forever, but the spirit does.

The snowflakes might be melted, but they’re still there in a different form as long as water remains.

 

*

 

“Harold? Harry, are you awake?”

The night is dark and heavy and Louis can’t sleep. He’s spooning the boy in his arms, who has fallen asleep as soon as he lied his head on the bed; lulled to sleep by the soft voice of Louis humming in his ear.

Louis tried to, he fucking tried to, but sleep doesn’t seem to want him a lot, really. He’s quite content, anyway, because it’s freezing outside and there's nothing better than Harry when it’s cold.

“Mmm?” Harry mumbles.

Of course. He wakes up so easily when Louis needs him. The only one with the power of interrupting his heavy sleep is his boyfriend, because Harry is always, _always_ there for him.

“Haz, tomorrow is Monday,” he remember, tightening his grip around Harry’s waist. “I just remembered it,” Louis says to him, who finally opens his green eyes. “Tomorrow you will know the truth, twat.”

“I know,” Harry whispers quietly. He turns around to face Louis, stealing a kiss from his lips.

“Harold!” Louis exclaims, frustrated. “This is like… A huge thing, babe! We should be rambling and being nervous about it. It’s your future, for God’s sake”

“I don’t want to bother you with my tizzy, Lou,” Harry confesses, pursing his rosy lips.

Louis frowns, disbelief written on his face. Harry is wrapped onto him so he has to push him away a little,  giving him a kindly punch on his chest.

“Hey! What was that for?” Harry growls, pouting like a very angry puppy.

“I’m your boyfriend, Harry. I want to know everything about you; I want to be with you in all times. If you’re feeling like shit, well, let’s feel like shit together,” he says and it’s probably scary how much he means it.

It’s so hard to put it on words, to explain this need to be part from Harry’s life. Louis is desperate to be in every single thing that Harry feels, he wants to share even the littlest things in life.

He wants to be part not only of his life but his feelings, troubles and moods too.

When Harry isn’t telling something to Louis, when Harry thinks about being annoying… That makes Louis feel useless.

Maybe it’s because Louis _is really useless_.

His capacity to be a solid rock for Harry when he’s feeling down seems to be nonexistent; he’s unable to be the one holding up their relationship. Even if he tries, Louis doesn’t give Harry those strong and weird feeling people in love should create in their lover.

“Louis?” Harry asks, breaking the silence. He abandons his little spoon position to be the one hugging and kissing Louis, who seems like he needs it. “Are you crying? Baby, no, please, don’t cry. I love you, okay? I love you.”

Louis doesn’t realize he has started to cry until Harry points it out. He buries his face on the pillow, suffocating the sobs, ashamed of being so fucking puny.

He doesn’t need his weakness. It’s too much with being useless already to be also weak.

_Everything is so fucked up._

“Lou, baby,” Harry whispers in his ear, kissing his temple.

“’M fine, Harold,” Louis muffles, face still pressed against the pillow. “I’m fine. Just… Emotional, I guess.”

“Sure? I love you, Lou.”

“Sure. Go to sleep, babe,” Louis pleads, and Harry knows he means it. Louis hates to cry in front of people, he hates to be a gloomy light for those who really love him. “I love you, too, pumpkin. Promise I’m fine, just sleep, will you?”

“Mmm,” Harry mumbles, leaning into kiss Louis on his lips. “Okay. Love you, silly head.”

When Harry is finally asleep, Louis allows himself to cry.

 

*

 

"Looks who’s here," Zayn cheers when Louis walks into the atelier. “The bad boy from the west side.”

He’s sitting on the ground, wearing his apron all stained with paint. Right next to him is his girlfriend, Perrie, who has been visiting the boys in the atelier quite a lot lately, bringing them food and just talking. She’s an artist too and Louis really likes her art, he gets along pretty well with her.

But that day he isn’t feeling well enough to be cheerful and friendly. Honestly, he just feels like a big piece of crap.

“I’m not in the mood, Zayn,” he growls, throwing his jacket on the desk. “Hi, Perrie.”

“Hi, Louis. Need help?” Perrie asks, sensing that something is off on Louis.

She’s nice and she’s probably only trying to help him, but Louis is absolutely grumpy and everything seems annoying for him right now. He doesn’t want help or pity, he just want his fucking boyfriend to make him part of his life.

“No, thanks.”

“Leave him, Pez,” Zayn whispers to his girlfriend and then he turns to Louis. “He acts like a dick when he’s angry.”

“I’m not angry, for fuck’s sake!” Louis yells. If he’s trying to make Zayn and Perrie believe that he’s fine, well, _he’s miserably failing_. “I’m just— just—”

Perrie knows better, of course. She makes space for Louis to sit next to her on the floor, welcoming him with a warm smile. “Here, sit here and tell us what’s wrong.”

Louis growls angrily, running a hand by his messy hair. He doesn’t want to be the weak one, really; but sometimes you just have to give up on your expectations and be the person you really are.

He walks dragging his feet, faking an over dramatic expression, and finally sits beside the happy couple.

“Here you go, good boy,” Perrie jokes, winking at him. “Now talk, Lou. Spit it out, make us know what’s bugging your mind.”

Louis doesn’t reply right away, playing nervously with the hands while nibbling his lower lip. He’s not really _that_ open when it’s about his relationship with Harry, the younger boy is his biggest treasure so he likes to keep everything to himself.

“It’s Harry,” he finally gives in because he needs to talk about it. His voice sounds choked, it surprise him how wrecked he sounds. “It’s… It’s always him, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, we already knew it,” Zayn mutters, actually interested on whatever Louis has to say.

“It’s… He’s applying to this conservatory, but he barely talks with me about his feelings. It feels like shit,” he growls, suddenly angrier and sadder. “I mean, I’m his boyfriend, I’m not asking too much. I just want to know if he’s excited, if he’s nervous, if he thinks he’s not gonna do it… I want to fucking now! I want… I want to be useful for him!”

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until Perrie rest a hand on his legs, caressing him in a pure act of friendship. Louis shuts up immediately, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to hold back his tears.

“I am asking too much?” he asks again, this time in a whisper.

“Of course not,” Zayn assures. Louis stares at him, trying to see if he agrees with him for pity or because he actually agrees with his statement. Yeah, he really agrees. “Harry is Harry, Lou. Remember, he is a pluviophile. He needs the rain because he doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings so he—”

“Harry is pluviophile because I’m a shit boyfriend. That’s the truth.”

“No, Lou,” Perrie cuts him, severe. “I don’t know Harry as much as Zayn does, but he seems to be a nice boy. Which is really clear is how much he loves you. It’s a lot, trust me.”

“Maybe he loves me, but I’m useless,” Louis argues, stubborn. “He doesn’t need me.”

“Louis.”

“Life is a shit,” Louis says and both Perrie and Zayn know there’s no way of changing Louis’s mind. “A real shit.”

 

 

*

**P O U R I N G  R A I N**

 

Pouring rain falls heavily on Louis. The boy is running in direction of Harry’s house, trying to escape from the rain even it’s everywhere around him. His hair and body made a mess and he’s barely acknowledging the fact that every muscle of his body is freezing.

He’s gripping his iPhone in his hands, not caring about how wet it could get, he can’t possible care about anything else more than the odd text Harry has sent to him minutes ago.

The water curtain makes impossible to see into the distance, but Louis knows he’s near the house. Porches muddy and messy, water running by the streets, wetting threes, culverts overflowed of water… A heavy storm is threatening the city, clearly. The raindrops hit the road like bullets, strong and noisily.

Louis reaches the front porch of Harry’s home with his boy made a mess and his clothes completely drenches. He hold the keys and opens the door, expecting to find Anne inside humming while doing her tasks, but he fins no one.

 “Anne?” he yells when he steps in, closing the door behind him. “Gemma? Haz?”

Nobody answers. He takes off his jacket and decided to sneak a peek to the kitchen, where he finds a sticky note written with Anne’s calligraphy:

 

**_We’re out, shopping. Harry: no news about your application yet. Louis: Jay called today. Call her back, pls xx_ **

 

None of the girls are home, then. He focuses on the part where Anne emphasizes that she didn’t receive news about Harry’s application.

Then, he freezes.

Louis’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about it. He starts breathing with a fast rhythm, his hands sweating like a fucking pig. He can't be calm, he can’t even count to ten to slow down a little.

He just needs to know what happened.

He starts searching in every room, knowing that Harry is nowhere to be seen. He kicks out his shoes and goes straight to their room, feeling his stomach made a rock and his throat closed.

The door is open and the bed unmade. Louis walks in, hesitant and scared.

It feels awful… _Really awful._

His chest is oppressed and his throat completely dry, he can’t even swallow his own saliva. He glances at his side of the bed and he finds a note there, plus an already opened letter.

 

**_Lou: I'm outside. I need the rain. Love you x_ **

 

The letter is from the conservatory and Louis’s heart clenches. It hurts as if it was his own letter, the disappointment runs by his veins and turns them ice cold when he read the words: _kindly deny your application, as your profile…_

Harry has been rejected. _Rejected._

That’s doesn’t make any sense because Harry has the voice of an angel, he’s passionate about the music, and he tried his best to play piano even when he’s a gangly dork, and he worked so hard for it. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right.

Louis feel crushed, lost in the world and clueless of his future. He knows how much it means for Harry to be accepted. Music is his skill, his passion; there’s nothing worse than receiving a note rejecting you from what you love the most.

It’s like a personal little demon telling you _‘Hey, do you think you’re good on this? Well, fuck you: you’re not.’_

The boy turns to the window, staring at the rain falling oustide. Harry went outside looking for the pace of mind he only seems to find in the rain, as he did when he sent the application, or when he’s down, or when he’s feeling weird… like every fucking time.

_Harry loves the rain. Harry needs the rain to be happy. Louis isn’t enough._

_Louis isn’t enough._ _See, this is the biggest problem of all: he’ll never be enough._

Louis collapses on bed, curling in fetal position, clutching the note Harry wrote to him against his chest. The tears fall down his cheeks, his body shakes with the sobs he isn’t trying to control anymore.

He feels so bad it hurts; it hurts more than any kind of pain in this world. There’s nothing worse than knowing how useless you are for your better half.

Harry is too sweet, too perfect for Louis, and Louis should have known it.

Maybe Harry loves him, yeah things like that can sometimes happens, but Louis isn’t doing anything for Harry. He’s a useless mess.

Even in his worst day, Harry runs to the rain, not to Louis’s arms.

_It hurts._

Louis cries himself to sleep and he knows he has never felt this bad before.

 

 

Louis wakes up with a pair of warm arms wrapping him. The smell of Harry is all over the bed, a strange warm has taken lace of his boy. He’s warm and comfortable in the outside, but so cold and lonely in the inside.

He rolls on bed, facing Harry to find him asleep. He’s only wearing his boxers, lying almost in the edge of the bed, trying to hug Louis as much as his lanky body lets him. Louis stares at his favorite boy in the world and his heart melts at the view.

Harry is made of candy, cotton, and rainbows, probably; and Louis is made of some shitty black gum.

He sighs loudly and pecks Harry on the nose, hoping he doesn’t wake him up. He doesn’t, Harry doesn’t even move, fast aleep. Louis tries to untangle his body from Harry to wake up, ready to take a hot shower.

The pain hasn’t relieved. Not a bit, and it will probably never fade away.

 

* 

**H A I L S T O R M**

 

 

Water falls from the sky as pellets of ice, irregular lumps of ice hitting the ground, creating loud noises and making a big scandal. It feels as if the nature is trying to catch people’s attention with those big hailstones.

Harry watches the hail falling under the safety of his front porch. His curious green eyes are wide open, his arms wrapped around his flexed legs, protected form the power of the nature by the roof of his proch.

It’s cold but not freezing, Harry knows that when it hails, the temperature reaches a really comfortable level of coldness. Harry is curled up on the corner of the porch, with flexed legs and his eyes glued on the road. He’s waiting for him.

_He’s waiting for his Louis._

He spots his tiny boyfriend running under the storm, trying to protect himself from the hail with his hoodie. Harry stands up immediately, knowing how ineffective the fabric is against the roughness of the hailstorm.

“Lou, baby!”

When he leaves the safety of his porch to run outside, the hailstones start hitting his body ferociously. They’re icing stones, it is cold as fuck, but he doesn’t care; he just keeps running until he meets his boyfriend.

“Fuck, Haz, is fucking freezing.”

 They run together towards the front porch, hand on hand like a teenage couple. Harry stumbles with his own foot a couple of time, but Louis is there to catch him. He’s always there to catch him, even when he seems to think otherwise.

“Are you hurt, Lou?” Harry asks when they’re away from the storm. He grabs Louis by his shoulder, checking if he’s hurt. “You’re going to catch a cold, baby, you should…”

“I’m fine,” Louis interrupts him, rolling his eyes. He’s shaking pretty bad and his lips are furiously red, cheeks icy and his skin really pale. “I’m just cold. Warm me up, human heat.”

“Come here,” Harry says, giggling, and pulls him in. They sit on the floor, Louis curled up on Harry’s lap, still shaking, but finding Harry’s warmth really comforting.

The hail keeps falling and the sound they make it’s a reminder that things between them aren’t fine and they have to fix them.

“Missed you,” Harry whispers in Louis’s ear. “I know you have been working, but…”

Louis knows this is the moment. A week has passed since Harry was rejected from the conservatory and they had barely talked about it. Harry tried to make their conversations about it as short as he could, always pretending he wasn’t hurt about it.

Louis knows him better.

“Haz,” Louis takes the word, feeling the regret already forming in his guts; but knowing it’s now or never. “I wanted to meet you because… Hum…”

“I thought you were going to dump me,” Harry confesses, his cheeks turning reddish.

“What? Idiot.” Louis smiles, unable to contain the love the burst out form his chest, kissing Harry briefly on the lips. “I will never, ever break up with you, understand?”

“I hope so,” Harry nods, the corners of his lips curving in a hopeful smile. “So, what this urgent thing you needed to tell me?”

“I’m…” Louis doesn’t understand how he didn’t die of a heart attack already. He’s feeling so fucking nervous he could die anytime soon. “I’m so sorry about your application, Haz,” he whispers while he draws circles on Harry’s chest.

“Oh—” Harry mutters, kind of confused. “It… Was this your urgency? It’s fine, baby.”

“No, it’s not,” Louis denies, knowing that Harry will try to close the argument. He doesn’t fucking want to stop talking about this; actually he would rather talk about this until forever. “It’s not fine, Harry. You have been rejected a week ago and you didn’t even cry. That’s not fine, Harry. I have two options in mind: you’re building a fake life and treating yourself into believe that you’re fine with it; or you hate me enough to hid your sadness away from me.”

“Louis!” Harry exclaims, scandalized that Louis could ever think he hates him. “I could ever hate you, please, don’t you ever say that!”

“Then why, Harry?” Louis asks, his voice gets caught up in his throat. He knows he’s on the edge of loosing control and breaking into sobs in front of him. He tries to be strong just for this time. “Why are you constantly running away from me? Why are you only in the good times with me?”

“It’s fine, baby,” Harry assures, avoiding the palpable tension between them. His voice is tense and shaking; Louis can sense he’s hurt and trying to control his feeling, too. “Don’t say that. I’m just happy when I’m with you and I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to ruin our relationship with unhappiness.”

“Harry, listen to yourself, please. Just, for once, do it.”

Louis doesn’t add anything else to the conversation. He closes his eyes and rests his hand where Harry’s heart is placed. He has heard so many times before that _love is enough_ ; and right now he’s doubting about that.

Harry covers Louis’s hand with his, one so big, the other so tiny.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, putting a soft kiss to his cheek. “I… You’re everything for me” he tears up a little, but he quickly wipes his tears with the back of his hand. “You’re all the brightness I need in your life and…” Louis doesn’t push, yet his anxiety reaches a crazy high level when Harry starts talking. Everything depends on these words. “I love you. Please, don’t leave me.”

Louis’s body quivers pretty hard. “Harry, princess. I will never, ever leave you.”

Louis falls on silence finding no words to say. Harry just holds him so, so firmly. It’s the only way he has to let him know how much he loves him, that he’s willing to do everything on his hands to make him feel better.

“Talk to me, Lou. I know you still want to…” he looks down to his boyfriend. “Let it go as I did.”

“I— Harry, it feels so bad,” Louis mutters, his voice sounds drowned. It’s all already lost, all the cards on the table. The die is cast; he has to go for all. He’s sobbing silently and Harry knows he’s feeling self-conscious, as he doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes when he cups his face between his hands, trying to face his boyfriend.

It’s crazy, Louis thinks. He can’t quite say who isn’t the broken one here, who’s the one that is being strong. They’re both helpless and in love; desperate to taste the freedom of knowing there aren’t secrets between them.

“Why?”  Harry asks and kisses him on his rosy cheeks, one kiss at time, gently. “Tell me.”

Louis weeps hard, his body shaking. His eyes are red and inflated, nose running, body trembling half from the cold and half because of the crying.

“Harry, kiss me,” Louis begs, brokenly. “Please, kiss me hard and make me feel loved, Haz.”

“Lou,” Harry whispers, approaching his boyfriend. Inches are separating their mouth, Louis’s eyes flutter shut as he feels Harry’s breathing hitting his lips. “You are loved. The most loved of all.”

Harry leans into kiss Louis softly at first, lips pressing against each other with the smiple need to feel their love. Louis needs this, he needs Harry being gentle and showing him his love in a deeper level.

“I love you. I love you so much, Harry,” Louis mutters between kisses. Every touch from Harry feels like medicine, his gentle hands stroking his skin makes Louis calmer. “I’m so sorry that I’m such a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, baby,” Harry denies, caressing Louis’s cheekbones with his long fingers. “And I love you too. I wish you could see how much.”

Louis knows it, he knows his Harry loves him, but his heart can’t quite understand it.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Louis asks. He sounds so broken, so needy, so delicate. “Harry,” he pleads, his hands wrapping around his boy’s neck, joining their mouth in a needy kiss. “Harry, please, make love to me.”

“Of course, my baby boy,” Harry whimpers before standing up. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, and Harry holds him as tight, carrying him to bed, tight as if he was holding his life on his arms.

Louis’s cheeks are wet with his tears; Harry just keeps kissing him, trying to fade the pain away, kissing away the sadness. He carries him to his room, and usually Louis would complain about being carried, but this time he just remains clung on Harry. All which Harry is doing means the world for the older boy.

They collapse on bed and there are only minutes until Louis is unzipping Harry’s damn tight jeans. Their mouths are melted in a frantic and deep kiss; tongues entangled.

Harry’s hands run over Louis’s body, taking his clothes off, enjoying his soft skin. Harry is especially gentle with him. It makes Louis feel safe, because he might like rough sex, but those gentle times are far better. They aren’t having sex; they’re making love. As cheesy as it sounds, Louis feels this way.

Harry rolls up on Louis and shoves his hips down, creating friction between their cocks. Louis, already half-hard, whimpers on pleasure and clenches his hands on Harry’s arms possessively, maybe a little much too firmly, but Harry doesn’t mind at all.

“Babe,” Louis moans softly. Harry plants soft kisses on Louis’s chest, caressing his skin.

“You’re lovely,” Harry whispers and reaches up to join their lips together. “Don’t have to be sad.”

While they make out, Harry fights against Louis’s boxer, wanting him naked, all naked for him.

Louis, who usually puts resistance and acts a little bit bitchy towards Harry because he likes to tease him, this time he just does everything Harry asks for; completely opened to him.

Harry kisses down Louis’s neck, every single inch of Louis’s body is raising temperature, and that feels so good. He kisses his chest softly, his mouth planting open kisses until he reaches his nipples.

“So, so beautiful,” he whispers in a rough voice, sucking and nibbling Louis’s nipples. Louis thrusts his head back against the pillow and pulls his lower lip up between his teethes.

Harry keeps licking here and there, making bruises, hearing the soft moans which come out Louis’s mouth.

“Wanna be yours” Louis mutters.

He needs Harry inside him; he needs to have Harry the most closer as he can, he needs to feel that they’re one. Harry completes him, and he needs to make Harry know that maybe, he can complete him as well.

Harry delicately glides his hand to Louis’s bum, slapping his cheeks. He’s hard now, the sight of needy Louis turns him on so incredibly much.

“All mine?” he asks naughtily, kissing his tights.

“All. Please—”

Harry smirks, looking up at his boyfriend. Louis is spread on bed, legs wide open, so ready for Harry. The younger boy slides his fingers by Louis’s tights and the boy shivers because of it, whimpering loudly.

“Shh, wait for it, baby,” he whispers. He grabs Louis’s by his hips and makes him turn around. “Good boy.”

Louis obeys Harry, turning until he’s facing the bed.

“Please, babe,” he begs, and Harry might love those pleadings. He stares at Louis’s back, arched and so beautifully soft. Then his perfect ass, Harry’s mind blows up with only thinking about the things he’d do with that perfect ass.

He leans down and puts open mouth kisses next to the back of his neck, then softly licks down Louis’s spine with his tongue. Every move is quiet and slow, and it might make Louis get completely lost, but it shows him how much he is open and committed to Harry.

When he reaches his bum, he softly slides his fingertips, caressing the pale skin of his cheeks. Harry looks at Louis’ hole, needles and pins burning into his lower belly. He does it; Louis does it; every bit of his boy sends Harry over the edge. He feels his cock so hard that it aches; he wants to fuck his boyfriend right there.

But Louis deserves all better, so he just bends down, his tongue finding his way to Louis’s hole, so stretched, so ready for him. Louis moans on pleasure when Harry licks over the tight ring of muscle, then open mouth kisses before starting licking him, his tongue lapping around his entrance.

Harry clasps Louis’s bump with his hands, making Louis remain still, licking him inside. Louis’s eyes flutter shut, back arching and mouth open on silent moans of pleasure.

“Babe, yes, like—” Louis’s words get lost when Harry moves away and just pulls in a finger inside Louis without even teasing or warning him before. “Fuck.”

Louis’s voice sounds cracked and rough, God it’s just so fucking hot. The older boy buries his face on the pillow to suffocate a noisy moan; when Harry introduces another finger, he can’t help whimpering so, so loudly.

“You’re so loud today, baby,” Harry speaks softly; he doesn’t even know how he manages to sound so calm when Louis is practically burning him.

“Can’t help it,” Louis gasps, and Harry sits over him. He slides his free hand until he’s grabbing Louis’s by the shoulder, and then introduces another finger, scissoring them, hitting Louis’s spot. “God, Harry. Fuck me, fuck me, please.”

“Gladly,” Harry teases, removing his fingers. He’s so ready for his boy.

He looks for the lube on his nightstand and lubes his throbbing and aching cock, then places it on Louis’s hole and slowly he starts pushing inside. Louis whimpers with the first rush of pain, Harry is so big for him, but immediately Harry starts kissing the back of his neck and the pain fades away.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Louis asks with a hoarse voice.

Harry shoves in violently, making Louis shout on pleasure. He can’t think straight now; the pleasure of being inside of Louis is bursting his mind. His sweaty body is glued to Louis’s, their faltering breaths, and everything is so fucking hot.

“I’m yours; Louis,” Harry moans and he shoves in especially harder, hitting Louis’s spot. Louis’s moans are now so loud, his voice cracking with the uncontrollable pleasure. “All yours.”

Louis cries Harry’s name, begging him to touch his aching cock. Harry gladly obeys while he pushes harder and harder inside Louis. He’s fully into him, his eyes flutter shut and his mind turns blank, he only can think about _louilouislouislouis._

“Louis, fuck,” Harry cries and then comes inside his boy, filling him with his cum, and right after Louis’s comes on Harry’s hand, crying his name.

Harry collapses on top Louis, lack of energy. His faltering breathing slowly starts coming back to normal, and his sweaty body is pressing against Louis’ feels right. Feels perfect, actually.

“I’m all yours, Lou. Hope this made it clear to you,” Harry whispers and strokes Louis’s hair. The boy nods with the head, exhausted. “Hopes this made you feel loved, which you do, because I’m madly in love with you.”

Harry pulls out, and it feels weird, because being inside Louis makes him feel… complete. Like Louis is the part that he’s missing. Louis is his everything.

Louis snuggles his body against Harry’s, who welcomes him on his arms quickly. The hail hasn’t stopped outside; it keeps falling and making that noise. It’s like a message for Harry; it’s a note from nature that is telling him that Louis needs to talk.

“Haz?”

“Tell me, baby,” he asks kindly, kissing Louis’s jaw.

Louis swallows hard and bites his lower lip. Harry feels his boyfriend’s heart racing inside his chest; feeling Louis's heart is one of his all-times favorites, but he doesn’t comment on that.

“It’s— it’s kind of stupid, really. It doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s making you upset, then it matters,” Harry points out wisely.

“Sometimes— I don’t know, Haz,” Louis sighs and buries his face on the pillow. “I know you’re such a sappy pluviophile, but we have been together for years and— I thought you didn’t need the rain to make you feel better anymore because— because you got me,” he explains and he feels so stupid, really. “Plus, I thought you could trust your feelings to me but you— you keep running outside every time you have a problem. For example, when you were rejected. You didn’t talk about that, Haz, you just ran outside.”

Louis’s face is red as a tomato; he feels like an hysteric boyfriend demanding more love than what it’s offered to him, which is a lot, really. Despite being a plupiophile, Harry always, always takes care of him.

He glances at Harry and when he finds that Harry is looking straight at him, he just closes his eyes and hides his face on the pillow again.

“I just feel so fucking useless,” he confesses, voice choked. He’s trying so hard not to cry.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry whispers, slowly sliding the tip of his thumb by Louis’s spine, which gives him chills. “Louis, you’re my whole life. My whole damn life. Rain can stop falling from now and till forever, and I wouldn’t care a bit. You know why?” Louis shakes his head and finally faces Harry. His eyes are full of tears, and it’s as sad as beautiful. It’s sad, but he looks so breathtakingly pretty. “Because, Louis, it isn’t the rain what I like the most. It is the fact that I know that always, not matter what, you’re gonna be by my side, holding my hand, and just enjoying the feeling of being wet… Together.”

A tear falls down Louis’s cheek, making a wet spot on the pillow. Harry smiles at him and wipes his puffy eyes with his fingers. Then he cups his hands on Louis’s face and kisses him delicately, as if Louis was a porcelain doll who was nearly to be broken.

“I never tell you my problems because I’m not used to it,” he confesses, blushing. “I never did it before; rain was my true company. I feel like I’m being annoying if I tell you that I’m sad. I don’t want to bring you sadness. I— I love you with my whole being, Louis, and that’s exactly why I think— I guess I think that talking about my problems will bother you. I don’t want you to be worried for me; I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

“Harry!” Louis exclaims. He can’t believe what Harry is telling him, how the hell he could have thought something as stupid as it. “Harry, for fuck’s sake, I’m your boyfriend and hopefully I’m gonna be your husband someday. I want to be part of every single one of your tears, as well as every single one of your smiles. You aren’t annoying for me, you’re making me part of your world, and that feels even better than any problem you could have.”

Harry bites his lower lip and slowly nods with the head, trying to convince himself. Then he hugs Louis all of sudden with all the forces he has, so unexpectedly, but so loving and full of adoration. Louis rests his head against Harry’s chest and kisses his skin so many times, feeling Harry’s heart racing up.

“I love you, my dearly baby boy. I’m happy with you. I have been happy since I meet you. And the rain isn’t a thing that makes me happy by itself because I might be a pluviophile," he whispers smirking, "but I’m more of the kind of Louisophile.”

Louis giggles, rolling his eyes, knowing that he’s completely gone for Harry. “What that even means, Harold?”

“ _Louisophile_ — it’s a thing,” Harry explains and tries his best to sound really serious, but he’s smiling like a child. “I’m the biggest Louisophile in the world.”

“It sounds horrible, babe,” Louis mutters and pecks him on the lips. Harry rests his head on the pillow, right next to Louis’. “I love you, Harry. And, again, I’m so sorry for your application.”

“What? Are we going to talk about it again? Throw it, Lou, I don’t care. Being rejected is the perfect excuse I have to stay here in London with you. I don’t fancy the idea of living away from you, if I have to be completely honest about that,” Harry confesses, finally giving into Louis. “That’s why I didn’t cry. Sounds a little childish but I don’t care. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Dork,” Louis teases him, kissing his lips. “My dork.”

They stay in a comfortable silence for a while, looking into each other’s eyes, feeling the love that wraps them into a bubble that seems to be their own personal universe.

Harry looks for Louis’s hand and intertwines their fingers, holding onto each other like anchor and rope. Louis snuggles against Harry; bodies pressed impossibly closer. Harry wraps him with his free hand, inhaling the smell of Louis, a mix of cologne, Harry’s scent and sweat.

“Hey, Lou— Do you really want to be my husband someday?”

“What?” Louis asks, poking his head up to look into Harry’s eyes. “Do… Don’t make me answer like a sappy boyfriend.”

“I want to be your husband someday, you know,” Harry whispers, his smile growing impossible big, and Louis’s heart feels like candy, like hot cocoa on a winter night, like a warm cup of tea when it’s snowing outside, like one of Harry’s embraces, like a soft and stolen peck on his lips from Harry, like a big ice cream on their very first day.

It feels as good as Louis can’t remember.

“Shut up,” Louis mutters, smiling so hard that it hurts. “Future husband.”

Outside, the hailstorm has stopped, replaced by a calm, lovely drizzle. In the sky, in the middle of the gray sky, appears a rainbow. A little dash of color in the middle of the grey immensity, like a promise of love in the middle of a endless diversity of future choices.

 

*

**R A I N B O W**

 

After the rain, comes the rainbow.

Harry starts searching options for his future, encouraged by his mom and Louis, who want him to pursue a career in the music field. He applies to three more conservatories while Louis starts working in another atelier in order to save some money to finally buy their own little flat to start building their future.

The chance finally appears by the hand of the best school of music in London, where Harry was recommended by a teacher from the first one he applied too.

They’re happy, together and excited; and for the very first time, their happiness isn’t a fake one, because Harry starts being open with Louis about his feelings. They spend hours under the rain talking about nothing at all and everything in between; and those little steps Harry makes, opening his heart to Louis, they mean the world for the older boy.

Definitely, after the rain comes the rainbow. All things find their right place in life: Louis, Harry, their academics lives and their life together.

Harry feels like drizzle: carefree, lanky, thin, calm, fresh; but he knows the best part of him is Louis.  _Because if Harry is drizzle, Louis is his rainbow._


End file.
